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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24320773">Who you gonna call?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckywrites/pseuds/duckywrites'>duckywrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magicians (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Gen, ghosts!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:53:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24320773</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckywrites/pseuds/duckywrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Small little thing I wrote during lunch. Teaching at Brakebills has its own risks.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleanor Lipson/Pearl Sunderland</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Who you gonna call?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What in the-” </p>
<p>“Down!” Lipson was yanked to the floor, behind an overturned table, just as a ghostly figure swooped by over their heads. The classroom looked like a battlefield, and likely seemed to be just that.</p>
<p>Sunderland peeked over the table with pursed lips, not half as concerned as Lipson would have liked her to be. <i>Right. Who’s got the PhD in Hauntings?</i> “Tell me that wasn’t you,” Eleanor hissed, ducking behind the table as something came flying their way, barely missing her head. Only when it shattered against the wall behind her she was able to deduce that it had once been a beaker. </p>
<p>“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.” Sunderland kept an eye on the figure laying waste to the room, trying to gauge the right moment to take action. Students were cowering behind their desks, some with bruises and cuts, but nobody seemed to be badly injured. </p>
<p>“Then do something!” </p>
<p>Sunderland opted to ignore Lipson, knowing that trying to explain how delicate such things could be was an utter waste of breath. “I’m not a Ghostbuster,” she muttered sourly when she finally got up. The spectral figure circled a student at the other end of the room, giving her enough time to cast a spell. Instead of making the creature vanish, it was merely pinned against a far off wall. Lipson took the moment to cast a barrier across the room, separating the entity from the students. “OUT!” she shouted, not turning back while she tried to hold it up until Sunderland was able to sort this mess out.</p>
<p>Pearl knew this was not the time to marvel about ghosts or the afterlife, for whatever they had here was not the friendly Caspar type. “Let it down,” she told Lipson, who lowered the barrier. With hand gestures way too smooth to be used the first time, Sunderland directed her focus on the creature, making it vanish in ghostly green flames with an ear-piercing wail. The room fell still again, leaving Sunderland and Lipson in the middle of a completely devastated classroom.</p>
<p>“What the fuck?!” Lipson’s voice came out more high pitched than she meant it to. The time spent this morning to wrangle her hair into perfect curls was for naught, her heart thumping in her chest. </p>
<p>“Well.” Sunderland pursed her lips and leaned down to pick up an old necklace lying on the floor. She held it up, letting it sparkle in the sun for a moment before safely putting it in her pocket. “Sometimes it’s better to leave your gran rest.” When she turned around, the students stood by the door, some curious, some terrified, and all of them quite shaken. “Go, uh, write an essay about how to safely restore haunted memorabilia. In theory! And… stop by the infirmary to get patched up, if necessary. Class dismissed.” </p>
<p>“Somebody’s grandmother? Really?” Lipson straightened herself, started to adjust her skirt, smooth down the front of her blouse, and tuck her curls back into place as good as she could without a mirror. </p>
<p>“Not really. It wasn’t a real ghost. Just a gran who apparently really didn’t want anyone to touch her valuables and cursed it.” Sunderland assisted Lipson, tilting her chin up and removing a hairclip. “Things happen. Nobody died.”</p>
<p>“I hate this job,” Lipson muttered, slouching her shoulders and turning to leave. </p>
<p>“No you don’t,” Sunderland replied with a small smirk, giving the other a light pat on her backside while heading out. “Come on Elle, I think we deserve a drink or two.”</p>
<p><i>“More like a bottle or two,”</i> Lipson added with a frown, all too happily leaving this mess to be cleaned up by someone who wasn’t her.</p>
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